Review: Stranger than Fiction (2006)

Stranger than Fiction
reviewed by Sam Osborn

Director: Marc Forster
Screenplay: Zach Helm
Cast: Will Ferrell, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Dustin Hoffman
MPAA Classification: PG-13 (some disturbing images, sexuality, brief
language and nudity)

In Stranger than Fiction, reality and the imaginings of a novelist are
bridged by, of all things, a British narration; to be precise, the
narration of Emma Thompson. She plays Karen Eiffel, a reclusive
novelist struggling with an especially thick bout of writer's block.
Her narration, clicked out on a typewriter in her huge, all-white
apartment, is mysteriously transmitted to Harold Crick (Will Ferrell),
whose every action coincides with Ms. Eiffel's words. His life has
suddenly become a narrated event. This would only be a slight annoyance
had Ms. Eiffel not foreshadowed Harold's tale with what she calls
"imminent death."

It's a great and clever gimmick for a comedy; a gimmick that could
gobble up a whole film without trouble and maybe drop in two years
later for second helpings on the sequel. But Screenwriter Zach Helm
isn't mining for gimmicks here. Just as soon as he settles in, about
to rest on the laurels of his neat plot device, Mr. Helm gets back up
and spins the gimmick like a top, letting its breadth span more than
the silly expressions on Will Ferrell's face. His hero is a man of
routine, one who counts out his steps and times his procedures with
quick mathematics and numbers. He's lonely and seemingly mechanized,
quietly unremarkable at his job as an IRS tax auditor. But amidst the
distracting narration that now plagues his routine, Harold meets Ana
Pascal (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a grassroots tax-evader who rebels against
the government with milk and chocolate-chip cookies from her
independent bakery. Harold is assigned to investigate her case and,
despite her publicly abusing him at her shop, he falls for her. His
routine is thus changed, but his death still imminent. For counsel he
goes to Professor Jules Hilbert (Dustin Hoffman), an expert on literary
theory to work up a list of potential authors he might be channeling.

In the same way Jim Carrey sang two octaves lower than his usual
high-pitched comic screech in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, so
too does Will Ferrell quiet down for Stranger than Fiction. It's not
as though somebody pressed the mute button on Ferrell's antics; his
performance is comfortably natural in all its quaint and charming
awkwardness. He plucks laughs from the audience, but doesn't whore
himself out for them like in this summer's Talladega Nights.
Similarly, in her small role as Karen Eiffel's assistant, Queen
Latifah turns in a thankfully understated performance. And finally,
Hoffman and Gyllenhaal both shine hard and bright under the stereotype
characters they're cast under. But great cast work is no surprise
from Director Marc Forster. His previous films-Stay, Finding
Neverland, and Monster's Ball-have churned out consistently
stunning performances from all actors involved.

The only words I have for describing Mr. Forster's directorial
prowess are a "natural affinity for moviemaking." Like Sam Mendes
(American Beauty, Road to Perdition, Jarhead), his films are driven
invisibly. In synopsis and description they're hardly exceptional,
but when seen, the films have a preternatural magnetism. They engage us
inexplicably close and don't let go until they're through. With
Stranger than Fiction, the draw is wonderfully human. It makes us laugh
at and love its awkward Harold and let the gimmick work its spinning
magic until the whole situation has taken its whimsical turn. It's a
wild and delightful success that hopefully won't go unnoticed this
upcoming awards season.
Sam Osborn